“When I came to our new farm hard by, you were away; but as soon as I heard you were come back, it was like a magnet drawing me. I could not keep away from you.” “Heaven forbid you should; and I will come and see you, dear nurse.” “Will ye, now? Do now. I have got a nice little parlor for you. It is a very good house for a farm-house; and there we can set and talk at our ease, and no fine servants, dressed like lords, coming staring in.” Lucy now proffered a timid request that Mrs. Wilson would take off her bonnet. “I want to see your good kind face without any ornament.” “Hear to that, now, the darling;” and off came the bonnet. “Now your cap.” “Well, I don't know; I hadn't time to do my hair as should be before coming.” “What does that matter with me? I must see you without that cap.” “What! don't you like my new cap? Isn't it a pretty cap? Why, I bought it a purpose to come and see you in.” “Oh, it is a very pretty cap in itself,” said the courtier, “but it does not suit the shape of your face. Oh, what a difference! Ah! now I see your heart in your face. Will you let me make you a cap?” “Will you, now, Miss Lucy? I shall be so proud wearing it our house will scarce hold me.” At this juncture a footman came in with a message from Mrs. Bazalgette to remind Lucy that they dined out. “I must go and dress, nurse.” She then kissed her and promised to ride over and visit her at her farm next week, and spend a long time with her quietly, and so these new old friends parted. Lucy pondered every word Mrs. Wilson had said to her, and said to herself: “What a child I am still! How little I know! How feebly I must have observed!” The party at dinner consisted of Mr. Bazalgette, David, and Reginald, who, taking advantage of his mother's absence and Lucy's, had prevailed on the servants to let him dine with the grown-up ones. “Halo? urchin,” said Mr. Bazalgette, “to what do we owe this honor?” “Papa,” said Reginald, quaking at heart, “if I don't ever begin to be a man what is to become of me?” Mr. Reginald did not exhibit his full powers at dinner-time. He was greatest at dessert. Peaches and apricots fell like blackberries. He topped up with the ginger and other preserves; then he uttered a sigh, and his eye dwelt on some candied pineapple he had respited too long. Putting the pineapple's escape and the sigh together, Mr. Bazalgette judged that absolute repletion had been attained. “Come, Reginald,” said he, “run away now, and let Mr. Dodd and me have our talk.” Before the words were even out of his mouth a howl broke from the terrible infant. He had evidently feared the proposal, and got this dismal howl all ready. “Oh, papa! Oh! oh!” “What is the matter?” “Don't make me go away with the ladies this time. Jane says I am not a man because I go away when the ladies go. And Cousin Lucy won't marry me till I am a man. Oh, papa, do let me be a man this once.” “Let him stay, sir,” said David.